The view from Calvary Cemetery was a seemingly endless one of grave markers, tombstone and statuary devoted to the dead. Even the tall skyscrapers visible from any part of the tranquil place of rest looked like overlarge headstones; grey, cold giants that stretched towards the winter sky, looking dead from the distance despite the life that Peter knew teemed within them. The cold still penetrated through the clothes of those people who were out and about that sunny afternoon, although the Arctic conditions of the previous day had lessened slightly. To the south, billowing blue clouds were just visible on the horizon, threatening a new onslaught of snow.
Walking the well-tread path towards a spot he had visited countless times, Peter's thoughts were surprisingly light in spite of yet another night-or in his case day-of nightmares about Gwen. He had returned to his apartment from his patrol of the streets after getting MJ's text message at the crack of dawn, stopping only to take a grudging photo of himself perched on a light-post near Madison Square Garden. He hadn't bothered to check on Eddie but had known perfectly well that his friend would have more than likely remained at Betty's, unless of course he'd managed to flag down a cab. Collapsing into his bed, he had fallen asleep quickly, his muscles singing with the kind of exhausted delight that only a night of swinging through the streets could give him. He had hoped that the dreams wouldn't have come but they had.
That's three nights now, he thought with a shake of his head as his feet crunched over the frosty grass. Usually his nightmares had been more sporadic. The only comfort he took in the images of Gwen that had plagued his subconscious was that Mary Jane hadn't intruded at all. He could stand Gwen's face screaming and raging and falling away from him because it had become common but the very thought of having her replaced with MJ in his dreams made his stomach clench sickeningly.
Coming to the cemetery had become a monthly habit of his. He had been planning on saving his trip here for Christmas Eve but after the most recent bout of disturbed dreams Peter knew that it was high time to pay Gwen a visit. Hands stuffed into his pockets, Peter picked his way through the rows of grave-markers and finally came to a stop at the almost white headstone that marked Gwen Stacy's final resting place.
No matter how many times he came to this spot he always felt the same wrenching, numbing weight in his heart. It simply signified Gwen, what she had been; her entire personality and courage and kindness all wrapped up into a marble headstone that jutted out of the ground like all the rest. Peter had come to the conclusion that tombstones were simply microcosms of the people they represented; the body was out of reach, cold and decayed in the dirt so a piece of the soul remained, contained metaphorically in the monument. It was supposed to be a means of comfort but to him Gwen's tombstone was more like a door, an opaque door that he knew she was standing behind but would and could never open again.
He sighed, a trail of vapor streaming from his mouth and said, "Hey kid...Merry early Christmas. The place looks great right now with all this snow but then again you probably already know that from where you are." He chuckled softly to himself and cast an unconscious look to the heavens. "I don't know if they're in the habit of giving Christmas presents up there but...could you make sure mine is some good dreams? Or maybe no dreams at all? It's just...it's hard Gwen...seeing you like that when I try and sleep...especially lately." Peter was silent for a moment, staring levelly at Gwen's tombstone without really seeing it. Talking to her was a way for him to hang on to a piece of her, no matter how feeble and metaphysical that piece was.
"I miss you," he said softly. "I always miss you and I don't want to lose what I've got left of you but something happened...something's...changing Gwen...I can feel it and I just don't want you to hate me for it." He took a deep breath, his lungs prickling with the frozen air. It felt almost sacrilegious to be referring to the feelings Mary Jane had ignited within him here at Gwen's grave. Shaking his head, he forced himself to talk about other subjects the way he had when he'd visited her resting place in the past. He spoke about Eddie most likely getting wasted at the previous night's party, of how Jameson was still riding his ass about Spider-Man and about the wannabe car thief Santa Claus he'd apprehended the previous night. Mild, almost lighthearted subjects that he wished he'd gotten the chance to speak more about with her when she'd been alive.
The sounds of approaching footsteps made him stop as he was telling Gwen about Aunt May's late night shift. He wasn't embarrassed by talking to Gwen because he never could be. It was so hideously wrong to feel shame at addressing a deceased loved one. But he lowered his voice, waiting for the person to move on but to his slight dismay their footsteps had stopped. Grimacing, Peter glanced sideways and felt his stomach do a somersault.
Mary Jane was standing several feet away from him wearing a thick yellow turtleneck sweater, her flaming hair cascading from beneath a dark green woolen hat. In one hand she was holding a full bouquet of red poinsettia's. She looked as shocked to see Peter as he was to see her and for a moment they simply stared at each other in dumbfounded confusion, Peter feeling vaguely like a man caught being unfaithful.
"Hey," MJ said after a moment.
"Hey," Peter replied, scratching the back of his heel with his opposite foot. "I, uh...didn't think we were having dinner here tonight..."
"Well it's not really a pizza joint but it'll do." For the first time, Mary Jane seemed almost nervous, as though she really wished she hadn't bumped into him at all. Judging from the flowers she clutched Peter knew at once just why she seemed so discomfited. She was here to visit somebody and didn't want him to know who or why. He opened his mouth, prepared to try and brush off their accidental meeting somehow but MJ cut him off, glancing at Gwen's headstone. "I, uh...I didn't know you had anybody here...I guess that's an incredibly dumb thing to say..."
"I know a lot of people here," Peter said with a sigh. "Too many actually." Mary Jane's sea-green eyes brimmed with pity and Peter felt suddenly embarrassed for having said something so dramatically tragic. He half-laughed and added in an awkward attempt at nonchalance, "That's just life huh? You lose some and...uh...win...some."
MJ shook her head distractedly and frowned, taking a step closer to Gwen's tombstone but still maintaining a respectful distance. "Gwendolyn Stacy..." She said, almost to herself. "I read something about her last year but..." She glanced up at Peter, almost hesitantly as if afraid to broach the subject.
"Gwen this is MJ," Peter said, nodding from the grave marker to the girl standing beside him. "MJ...this is Gwen. She was my...well I mean we were..." Peter didn't know how to describe it. How could he possibly put into words what Gwen had meant to him? Girlfriend was so commonplace, so bland compared to what he had felt for her. And as for one true love...well up until recently Peter had believed that completely but now he wasn't even sure that was possible.
Comprehension dawned on Mary Jane's face. Her eyes widened and her lips parted in mingled surprise and self-disgust. "Oh God Peter I am so sorry! I had no idea!"
"Hey it's fine. Not a lot of people do."
But MJ seemed determined to be as mad at herself as possible. "The whole damn time!" She all but wailed. "God, everybody kept pushing you and pushing you to meet me and they never had the decency to tell me that you lost somebody so important to-"
"Mary Jane!" Peter said, slightly forcefully in order to calm down. He didn't like seeing her so worked up, especially over something that had occurred so long ago. Of course any other time he would have stood by all the abuse she was showering on the people who had tried setting them up. "Really it's...it's okay...I've sort of dealt with it."
MJ stared at him, her gaze still sympathetic. She glanced from Gwen's tombstone to Peter and then back again and said thoughtfully, "She must have been an incredible girl to have caught your eye, Tiger. I can't even imagine...I don't think I could hold it together half as well as you are."
"I wasn't for a while," Peter admitted quietly. "But...it's nice that I've still got pieces I can come back to." Mary Jane smiled softly at him and, before Peter knew what she was doing, plucked a long stemmed, fully blossomed flower from the bouquet she carried. Crouching down, MJ placed the poinsettia delicately, almost tenderly on the earth in front of Gwen's headstone. With a small smile she said, "You're one lucky lady Gwendy. Should've come by the restaurant back then. We would have hit it off, I'm sure." Then she got to her feet and, still smiling, hooked her arm under Peter's, standing with him quietly as they looked down at the single red flower on Gwen's grave.
After a moment of silence MJ said quietly, "Hey Tiger...if you're okay with it there's somebody I'd like you to meet as well." Peter glanced down and saw that Mary Jane was gazing pensively at Gwen's headstone. Her eyes were a million miles away and yet she'd set her chin determinedly, as though she'd finally stolen herself towards this course of action.
"Only if you're okay with it," Peter told her, relishing the warm feeling of having her so close beside him.
"I'm sure," MJ replied. "Come on...you let me see the woman you loved. I think it's only fair that I introduce you to somebody who used to be really important to me." She chuckled dryly and added, "Besides...if we're going out to dinner it's only appropriate that you meet my mother."
A massive Chrismas tree had been erected on the first floor of the mall, the gilded star on top almost touching the glass ceiling that domed he third floor above it. Cheerful lights twinkled from amid the fake evergreen branches which had been bedecked with candy canes, baubles and red bows. The sounds of familiar holiday songs wafted from every speaker in the main area of the mall as shoppers dressed for the weather hurried about with their Christmas purchases.
Peter barely took it all in as he walked with Mary Jane through the second floor food court. They had a perfect view of the festive scene around them but neither seemed inclined to enjoy it. Both had been silent during the twenty minute walk from Calvary Cemetery and Peter fully expected Mary Jane to remain quiet for the remainder of the evening. Now, as MJ stared out almost blankly at the crowds below them Peter felt almost completely helpless to do anything to help her.
The memory of her mother's tombstone had stuck with him during the entire trip to the mall. She had died so young from the date on the marker and while Peter felt that the knowledge had deepened something between himself and Mary Jane he knew fully well that knowing about her mother barely scratched the surface. There was pain there, something big enough to make her whole entire demeanor change. Peter felt as though she'd shown him something incredibly intimate and he wasn't entirely sure he liked the feeling.
"She killed herself."
Peter glanced at MJ, the sound of her voice almost a surprise after being silent for so long. Staring down at the scene below, her eyes were distant, her beautiful face grim. "I know you're too sweet to ask Tiger but that's...that's how she died."
"You didn't have to tell me. Not if you didn't want to."
MJ smiled sadly at him at said, "Funny thing is...I actually don't mind telling you. It's...it's kind of a relief actually. I haven't told a soul since it happened. Not even Betty knows that." She bit her lip and then added in a rush, "My father drove her to it really. Years and years of him just going after her and my older sister and she couldn't take it anymore."
Anger flared in Peter's chest, drowning out the burgeoning pity. He wanted to hunt MJ's father down to the ends of the Earth, to make him pay for having caused her such pain, for taking her mother from her so young. Peter's fingers curled tightly over the gold metal that ran across the top of the transparent banister and before he knew it he felt it crushing in his hand, the thick steel as fragile as butter. Nostrils flaring as his heart pounded in his ears, Peter forced himself to take several slow, deep breaths as Mary Jane continued to speak to the air before them.
"He never, y'know...did anything to me...and that was the worst part. I never understood why, y'know? Like...what was so special about me that he never threw it my way? He never hit me...he never even swore at me and it...it just..."
She sighed heavily, her eyes still distant. Before he could stop himself Peter placed his hand gently over hers on the railing. Her skin was warm and soft as down and something surged through Peter's veins like an electric current, not altogether unpleasant. It was almost like a gentle tickle, setting each of his nerves off in a domino rally. MJ's eyes, bright and stormy, stared into his and for a moment Peter let himself get swept away in the hurricane he saw in her.
So this is what they mean when they say the eyes are the window to the soul, he thought. He'd barely known her for twenty four hours but already he felt as though he was beginning to understand the quietly raging tempest that was Mary Jane Watson. There was a heat to her, a blazing zeal for life and everything she could experience in it. It was reckless, passionate and all-consuming but intertwined with it was the wall of ice that she had built around her, protecting her innermost secrets and hiding the pain and vulnerability. The perfect combination for a veritable super-storm of a human being.
Just like you, said the voice that sounded like Gwen in his head.
"You didn't tell anyone else," Peter said softly, almost disbelievingly, his hand still covering hers, his eyes still pulled under by the maelstrom in her own.
"No," she whispered. All around them the mall continued to buzz with life, almost a separate world from the one they had found themselves in.
"Why me?"
"Don't know. I just...felt like I needed to...like I could just tell you and it would be okay."
Peter's fingers laced with hers and for a moment he wanted to hold her to him and leap over the railing and carry them both out of the mall on the thread of a web. "I'm sorry," he told her softly, genuinely. "You'd hear that from a lot of people I guess...but...but I really am, MJ. I wish..." He wished what? That he could swing into the past and save her and her family from her monster of a father? It was impossible, not to mention so typically him; having to save everyone from the smallest piece of evil. He hadn't even been able to save Gwen from a simple fall and there he was wanting to wish away years of scars from Mary Jane's life.
She smiled sadly at him, placing her other hand over his. "Thank you," she said softly. "I didn't know if..." Her voice broke and she swallowed heavily before forcing a small smile. "Thank you."
He could have stared into her eyes forever but at that moment a little girl's voice close at hand cut through whatever it was that had kept them glued to each other's eyes.
"Grandpa! They're under the mistletoe, how come they're not kissing?!"
Both Peter and MJ looked around at the sound of the little girl's voice. Peter's first thought when he saw the child and her grandfather was that he hadn't known that the old librarian from Midtown High had had any children let alone grandchildren. The kindly looking man with wispy grey hair gazed reproachfully at Mary Jane and Peter from behind his tinted glasses and said with evident mirth, "Well you heard her! Hop to it young man. It's tradition after all."
Peter looked back into MJ's eyes, his heart starting to beat fast for reasons he couldn't understand. His face felt as flushed as hers was becoming and although a small part of him was screaming in protest at the notion, Peter wanted to know what would be like to kiss her, to feel those full cherry lips of hers on his. Judging from the almost curious way MJ was looking at him, Peter could tell that she was more than likely thinking the same thing.
"It's not binding," Mary Jane said tentatively.
Grinning, Peter said, "Yeah but you heard the man. It's tradition." And with that, he tilted his head down, cupped the side of MJ's face with one hand and softly kissed her. It was a gentle, chaste kiss but one that immediately sent Peter's mind into overdrive. He wanted more of this, more of her, wanted to stay locked in this moment for the rest of his life.
He felt swept away by the touch, the very nearness of her. He wanted it to be wrong, wanted somebody to suddenly come along and berate him for being such a traitor to the memory of the girl whose tombstone he had been at less than an hour ago. And yet there was no denying that it felt so right to be doing this, to let her in even if it was just part of some stupid holiday tradition. He wanted to disappear into the refuge of the moment with her, to hide forever in the little space that had somehow formed around them when their lips had touched.
All at once the moment was brought to a screaming halt as Peter's spider-senses went haywire. He broke the kiss with Mary Jane and whirled around, staring as hard as he could at the floor below. He could feel the vibrations in the air, echoing savagely as though plucked by the hand of a giant. Almost a second later he heard the screams of the people on the lower levels. He opened his mouth, prepared to offer Mary Jane a completely lame excuse that would allow him to slip away but before he could say a word she too looked around, drawn by the sounds from behind and below.
Hating himself for leaving her high and dry, Peter retreated into the gathered, worried crowd, grimacing as the screams and sounds of destruction below increased. Bobbing through the onlookers, Peter dove into the nearest bathroom, slipped into a stall and tore off his outer clothes. Just before he pulled his mask on he was blindsided by his spider-senses going off like a police siren. Almost a moment later he heard the people on the second floor outside the bathroom screaming in terror. Something heavy and metallic crashed against the floor which shook under Peter's feet.
Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he pulled his mask over his head and kicked the stall door open. Alerted by his senses, Spider-Man leaped backwards, skidding to a halt at the opposite of the bathroom as something crashed through the wall from, sending rubble and tiles flying.
He knew exactly where the thing had come from. Almost as tall as pony and shaped like a spider, the machine's electric red eyes zoned in on Spider-Man almost instantly after crashing through the wall. The web-slinger could see the people on the other side scampering away from the robot and felt an overwhelming sense of relief that he at least wouldn't have to be in charge of damage control.
"Otto," he muttered to himself as the robot crouched on its spindle leg and prepared to launch itself at him, "you really should have done your homework before presenting your project to the class." Firing a line of webbing at the ceiling over the machine's head, Spider-Man launched himself into the air just as the robot charged towards him. The thing crashed into the opposite wall and he grinned at the satisfying sound of metal meeting tile.
Dropping to the ground outside the demolished bathroom, Spider-Man turned to assess the robot's next move. Although it had charged headlong into the wall of the bathroom, it pulled itself around almost at once, its sturdy yet thin legs clicking on the tiled floor as it turned to face its quarry. Narrowing his eyes, Spider-Man flipped backwards over the side rail as the machine charged at him once more. He had planned on firing a web line to the underside of the ceiling but the second the thread was unleashed something razor sharp sliced through the air and severed it.
With expert reflexes Spider-Man landed on the edge of the railing. He stared at the robot and saw two retractable arms sinking back into the thing's shell.
"Oh you bastard," he muttered. With a clattering of metal legs on linoleum, the robot charged him once more. Spider-Man attempted to leap over the thing but it seemed to have learned from its last attempt. With surprising speed, it managed to turn itself around and raise itself onto its back legs. With a violent slash, four of its free legs sliced through its prey. Hissing, Spider-Man fell to the floor, the long cuts inflicted on him by the robot stinging and dripping with fresh blood.
Ignoring the pain, Spider-Man ran towards the wall ahead of him, climbing up it as the robot pursued him. "You might be ridiculously fast and strong," he said in an effort to stop himself from being slowed down by his injuries, "but I'd like to see you climb-" His quip died in his throat. Hanging upside down on the underside of the third floor he watched with a sinking feeling as the machine pursued him up the wall, stabbing its legs into the surface as it scuttled its way towards the ceiling.
Doc Octavius, you are so dead the next time I see you, Peter thought bitterly. His chest was still searing with pain as his blood dripped onto the shattered linoleum beneath but he still would not let it deter him. He fired a line of webbing and, before the robot could do anything to sever it, swung towards the wide open space where the Christmas tree had been raised. There were still a few people scattering towards the exits and Spider-Man did his best to lead the murderous robot away from them.
Being unable to follow him through the air, the machine anchored itself upside down on the bottom of the third floor, its red insect eyes following Spider-Man as he swung towards the opposite side of the mall. Coming to land on the third floor he stared across the space between himself and the machine. For a moment he thought he'd given the robot the slip for the time being and began quickly thinking of a way to bring it down.
He could see it crouching in on itself from where he was, the legs retracting underneath it. It seemed as though it was shutting down and Spider-Man paused, staring at the thing in curiosity. Then he jumped backwards as the machine sprang off of the ceiling, launching itself through the air towards him. It used the branches of the massive Christmas tree to propel itself across the remaining distance and the wall-crawler had enough time to fire a line of webbing to the ceiling above him and swoop towards the robot, dead-set on meeting the thing head on.
More nimble and light than the machine, Spider-Man released his webbing and somersaulted over the robot, firing a well aimed kick at its head. The machine swiped at him with its sharp legs but missed and fell towards the branches of the massive holiday tree. With a grin of satisfaction, Spider-Man stuck himself to the side of the balcony on the second floor, hanging on only for a second before propelling himself downwards to the floor below. Not letting himself wait even a second, he fired several lines of webbing into the depths of the tree and collected the ends in one hand.
He could hear the robot among the branches of the Christmas tree, whirring and clicking as it broke free of the evergreen appendages. Its red eyes blazing it soared towards Spider-Man, landing with a resounding crash on the floor, shattering the linoleum on impact. Before the thing could so much as make a move forward, Spider-Man tugged on the webs clutched in his hand, watching with satisfaction as the gigantic tree came crashing down on top of the robot.
"This really brings Christmas closer to a person," he said with a shake of his head. He turned, thinking that he would scour the mall to make sure that nobody had been hurt in the machine's attack but at that moment he heard the thing break through the branches of the fallen tree, its legs splayed forward like swords. Landing on top of the tree, it faced Spider-Man, who grimaced and leaped high into the air, firing a line of webbing at the glass ceiling overhead.
Just as he prepared to swing away from the thing it fired several razor sharp projectiles at him. Peter managed to avoid being hit by the missiles but his webbing was not so lucky. He fell with a thud and before he could right himself the robot pounced, batting him sideways like an injured mouse. The thing's legs were surprisingly strong in spite of their delicate structure. The force with which they batted Spider-Man sent him crashing through the window display of a clothing store and he sailed through several shelves of merchandise before he finally crumpled the ground in a heap.
Breathing heavily, he got to his feet in spite of the daze of pain and confusion that had seized hold of his mind. He was conscious of the fact that the robot was charging after him, the evil red of its electronic eyes visible through the his hazy mind. As he leaped onto the ceiling of the store he was also dimly aware of the fact that this robot was wrong somehow; Octavius had created them for benevolent purposes, and it wasn't that long ago that Spider-Man had talked to the doctor.
Now the thing seemed hellbent on finishing him off, ignoring everything else in a desperate attempt to have his blood.
Scuttling on the ground underneath him, the robot's shell suddenly opened as if it were about to spread wings and flutter through the air like some mechanical ladybug. To Spider-Man's horror he saw that underneath the metal shell was a series of razor disks like the ones that had severed his webbing. Groaning, he crawled along the ceiling as fast as he could as the machine began firing off its deadly projectiles. Due to his spider-sense, the web-slinger was able to avoid almost all of the weapons but as he reached the end of the store he felt a searing pain in his foot as one of the blades connected with his flesh.
With a grunt of pain, he fell to the floor, spinning a web-ball as fast as he could. Rolling over just as the robot reached him, he fired his makeshift weapon at the thing's legs. For a second he felt a surge of jubilation as the sticky sphere caught on the robot's knife-like legs. The machine staggered momentarily but the next second its legs sliced through the webbing and before Spider-Man could so much as roll out of the way, the robot twisted its forelegs around and seized him under the arms. Swooping him off the floor it pinned him to the wall behind and then closed both of its mid-legs around Spider-Man's middle, trapping him.
He had faced the possibility of death before, more than many people in the city. The terror of death scared him, the same as it scared most people but the actuality of it, whatever it was that lay beyond...death would be an end to everything, a chance at reuniting with all that he had lost. And yet if he had faced this situation merely several days ago he wouldn't have fought it off. Now all he saw as he stared at the mechanical underbelly of the robot was the people he had remaining: Aunt May, Eddie Brock...and Mary Jane.
With a growl, Peter tried with all his might to push the robot off of him but the thing would not budge. Its front legs were embedded almost to the hilt into the wall behind Spider-Man's head and even exerting all of his strength wasn't enough to get the thing off of him. Something whirred to life on the robot's underbelly, something sharp that ran a mile a minute as it began to draw closer and closer to Peter's side. He cried out in pain as the weapon dug into his flush and knew that this was it for Spider-Man.
Almost as soon as the pain had started it diminished. The robot suddenly convulsed and Peter felt electricity surge around him. The legs pinning him to the wall pulled away and he sagged to the ground, watching through heavy eyes as the machine convulsed, sparks dancing around its body. A burning smell filled the air as the robot's circuits popped. It tried to stand straight but seemed to have lost all sense of stability. Its red eyes blew out, sparks flying into the air in front of Peter's face and he turned his head away, almost blinded as shards of glass flew towards him.
A groaning, humming sound filled his eardrums and a moment later the noise and the sparks died. Peter opened his eyes and saw that the robot had collapsed on the floor before him, its legs splayed underneath it, its eyes completely shattered.
And standing behind the felled robot, her hair disheveled and her eyes blazing with fury was Mary Jane Watson. Peter's eyes slid downwards to the taser gripped in her hand. She stepped around the robot and held out her free hand. Breathing heavily, his entire body sore, Peter took it in his gloved one and pulled himself to his feet, not sure whether or not he was actually seeing her.
"I must have hit my head harder than I thought," he said with a stab at bravado.
"Trust me Spider I'm completely real," MJ said as she helped him limp around the remains of the machine.
"You want to tell me why you came after a mechanical bug that even I had trouble dealing with?" It was stupid and reckless but so entirely her that he couldn't be angry. In any case he didn't have the energy to feel anything other than dull relief that Doctor Octavius' robot was finished for good.
"I was looking for...a special someone," MJ replied as they walked back into the main floor. She eyed the fallen Christmas tree and the worry on her face deepened. "One second I was talking to him and then I heard all the commotion. I only turned around for a second and then he was just...gone."
Oh shit, Peter thought. Out loud he said, "What, uh...what does he look like?"
"Hard to describe Spidey," MJ said, stopping to look him dead in the eyes of his mask. "I'd say he's cute but that's a little too generic. He's actually really cute...handsome really. Big, brown puppy-dog eyes. Kissable lips...well I mean lips that I just recently learned were kissable." She sighed and said, "Kind of another reason I want to find him so badly. I'd like to get another kiss...and maybe another."
Oh please don't let me be turning red, Peter thought desperately. His face was burning and in spite of his injuries he felt pride blooming in his chest at her words. He wanted to swing around the mall, screaming at the top of his lungs like a child that she had said he was cute. More to keep himself under control than anything, he simply decided to peg that notion down to the loss of blood.
Something clicked behind them and for a moment Peter felt his heart sink at the thought that the machine had somehow come back to life. Whirling around he saw to his complete disbelief that Eddie Brock was standing several feet away, holding a highly expensive digital camera. Grinning, he tucked the apparatus back into the bag around his neck...a bag that Peter recognized as his own.
"There," he said as he walked towards them, "now Peter can have some cash rolling in while he recovers in the hospital."
"You don't even know that he's hurt Eddie," MJ said hotly with a roll of her eyes.
"Hey you're just lucky I didn't tie you to a street lamp, Red," Eddie fired back. Turning to Spider-Man he said, "Can you believe this woman? I had to stop her fro tazing a security guard. That's how bad she wanted to get back inside."
"We both wanted to find Peter," MJ said dismissively. "And you said two heads are better than one, although yours happens to be lodged securely up your-"
Clearing his throat Peter said, "You, uh, say this guy...this...Peter, is really cute right? Where did you see him last?"
"Near the bathrooms on the second floor."
"I'll go check. I've been told that I'm a good judge of cute people. Shouldn't be too hard to find him."
"But you're hurt!" Eddie said, taking notice of the long gashes and cuts on Spider-Man's chest, side and foot.
"Don't worry...it's just a flesh wound," the web-slinger replied with a non-committal laugh. Ignoring the searing pain in his foot, he launched himself into the air, fired a web at the second floor near the bathroom where he'd been first attacked by the robot, and swooped onto the rubble strewn ground. Picking his way through broken tickle and pieces of brick he managed to extract his clothes from where he'd left them. Shaking with the effort of having to remain conscious with his injuries being as severe as they were, Peter took a deep breath and shouted back down to Eddie and Mary Jane, "He's up here!"
Then, simply for the effect of appearing as though he'd been taken by surprise, he flopped onto the ground and closed his eyes, slipping into blissful unconsciousness long before Eddie and MJ found him.
